Let Me In
by SVUFanatic611
Summary: postIntoxicated. Elliot and Olivia were like that. But, they’ve come to the point these days where they don’t talk much anymore. Elliot visits Olivia.


Title: _Let Me In_

Author: SVUFanatic611

Rating: PG-13

Summary: post-Intoxicated; small spoilers for Intoxicated

Shoutout: FaithHopeLove, my online soul-sister and beta! Love ya, girl!

Disclaimer: SVU and its associated characters are not mine.

**Olivia Benson's Apartment**

"Come on, Liv, open the door," Elliot pleads, as he stands outside his partner's door. He knows that this case has hit home for her, with the alcoholic mother, with her daughter who tried so desperately to get away from it all, and with the ever-growing confliction of loving that mother simply because she is your mother, and hating her, because that mother should never put a child in that position. He knows that Olivia's been in Carrie's spot, and empathizes her, and he knows that she teetered on the edge more than once during the case.

He knows she talked to Casey at the bar. But, Olivia didn't tell him that, of course. He found out on his own. He had gone to see Casey to go over his testimony on another case. When he walked in, he found her still shocked at hearing the story that was just a mere snapshot in the photo album that makes up Olivia's life. He asked her if anything was wrong, and after persuasion and badgering, she told him about the conversation at the bar, thinking he probably already knew. Elliot and Olivia were like that. He knew everything about her. She knew everything about him. But, now that's gone. They've come to the point these days where they don't talk much anymore, outside the realm of dead bodies, rape victims, hurt children, and violence. They don't confide in each other anymore about all things. They're no longer each other's support systems.

He knows that most of that is his fault – hell, all of it is. He didn't tell her about Kathy and the kids; he didn't talk to her after she had found out; he pushed her away. And now, he knows that their friendship is crumbling because of it all. He knows she wants to help, but no matter how hard he tries, he can never get himself to say anything to her. He can never confess anything to her. He just gets mad and stomps off in his rage, anger, and hatred for the job and his deteriorating life. And he knows that if he had just let her in, he wouldn't be in this position – begging for his partner to let him in: in the door, in her heart, in her mind.

Olivia sits inside her apartment, on her couch. Her legs are tucked into her chest, and her head rests on her knees. She plays with the fringe on the throw that drapes over the side of the seat, trying so hard not to listen to Elliot. She doesn't want to talk to him, but yet, she does. She doesn't want to be mad at him for never talking to her anymore, but, yet, she does. She doesn't want to blame him for the fact that their relationship isn't the same, but, yet, she does. And she hates that. She hates putting the burden and blame on him, but she's tried so hard for these past months to get him to talk, but he doesn't. And that only frustrates her more. He doesn't realize that she won't walk away, she won't leave him, she won't judge him, she won't lie to him.

"Olivia, please open the door. I really want to talk to you," he pleads again. She thinks that if she sits here long enough without answering, he'll just go away, but she knows he won't. She's just postponing the inevitable.

She gets up, walks over to her front door, undoes the chain, and unlocks the door, opening it to reveal her partner. They stand in silence for a moment, soaking in each other's appearances. She's in black drawstring pajama pants, a gray tank top, bare feet, and a look of desperation and devastation masks her face. He's still in his work clothes, a blue collar shirt, with a tie that the twin's had given him for his birthday, dress shoes, and a look of the want to help covers his face.

"Can I come in?" he asks, looking at her with big eyes, and a small voice.

Olivia stares at him silently for a moment, before pushing the door open and walking away, inviting him reluctantly in. He follows her in, closing the door behind him, and finds her back in her original position on the couch. She's curled up in a ball, and her eyes rest upon the glass of red wine that's on the table, that looks like it hasn't been touched. His eyes also rest upon it, and he stands at the end of the sofa, not sure as to what to do. His plan of trying to help his partner hadn't expanded further than walking in the door.

"Why are you here, Elliot?" she asks, her voice sounding like sandpaper against her throat. Elliot opens his mouth to answer, but no words come out; not many do these days. He closes his mouth, but soon starts again, hoping that something will come out. She finally looks up at him after several moments of silence, and meets his blue, tired eyes. She holds the glance for only moment before returning to the fringe on the throw.

He ignores the question, but hopes that the conversation he's leading her to will help with answering. He takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, his elbows on his knee, and hands folded in front of him. His eyes look down, and they don't meet her chocolate, consuming eyes. "Kathleen asked about you the other day," he comments.

"Really?" she responds, in a monotone and unenthusiastic tone. "What'd she say?"

Elliot keeps his stare with the carpet, and spoke in a monotone voice as well. "Listen, Liv, Kathleen may be young, but she's not by any stretch of the imagination stupid. She probably saw this separation coming before anyone else. I mean, Maureen maybe saw it, but Kathleen got the brunt of it. She's home more, and she's old enough to know what's going on. She knows why Kathy left, where the twins have no clue why they're split in two directions," he says, stopping for a moment, realizing he's rambling, but he continues. "And my daughter understands what kind of relationship you and I have, Liv. She knows that some things I can't bring home; that I have to keep some things at the station when I leave. And she respects that," he says, taking a deep breath. He never fully answered any of her questions, so he rubs a hand over his eyes before he continues.

"She asked that if I had talked to you about any of the stuff at home. She said that she could tell how hard I was taking all this, and if I wasn't talking to you, I needed to be." Olivia raises an eyebrow at him for a moment, before turning back at the fringe. "And she asked if I was being a good partner to you; if I was pushing you away. And after I ignored her question, she just asked if how you were…"

"This isn't about me, Elliot. These past few months haven't been about me. I haven't forced you to talk to me…"

"That's not the point I'm trying to make, Liv. What I'm trying to say is…What I'm trying to tell you is…that for the first time in six years, I couldn't answer the question," he says, still looking down.

"What do you mean, El?"

"That for the first time since you and I became partners, I didn't know how you were. I didn't know if you were okay. I couldn't answer any question that had to do with you." He pauses for just a second before looking up at his partner, and continuing. "Liv, for the past few months, I haven't been fair to you. I've pushed you away. And when I did that, I lost you. I lost who you are. And, Liv, I can't afford to lose anyone else right now," he whispers, as if the words hurt him as they come out.

"Elliot, you haven't lost me. I've always been here. I'll never let myself get pushed so far away that you can't reach me when you need to," she says, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Elliot keeps his stare with his partner. "Really? Really, Liv? How come you went to Casey when this case got too close to you?" he asks with just a little accusation in his voice.

"First of all," she says, slightly pissed. "I was alone at the bar. Casey came to me to talk to me about the case, and the only way I could explain my asking her if she would plead Carrie out was to tell her about my mom. And, Elliot, we're a small group. We all support each other. There is not one specific person I'm assigned to when it comes to talking about the personal aspects about a case."

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Liv," he says harshly, but when he realizes it, he takes a deep breath and continues. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I just mean, Liv, I miss what we had. I miss the fact that we used to talk to each other about everything. I'm just saying, you can let me in every now and then, Liv. No matter how deep I'm in with Kathy, I'll always listen if you let me in." He realizes that it wasn't a good idea to say that.

"_Me_ let _you_ in, Elliot? Let's try turning that finger around; for the past months, I've watched you crumble, Elliot. I've watched you get too involved in cases, and I've done everything but get down on my knees and begged to get you to open up to me. And now you're gonna sit there and tell me I need to let you in?" she said harshly, as she made her way to the kitchen with her wine glass in her hand.

"Liv, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like…"

"Tell Kathleen I'm fine. I'm doing great, even when my partner doesn't talk to me," she says, as pours the wine into the sink, and her back faces Elliot.

"Olivia, I didn't mean…I meant that you can still talk to me. Even if you feel pushed aside, I'll listen to you."

"Stop lying to me, Elliot. After all this, don't lie to me…"

"What is that supposed to mean? How am I lying to you?" he asks, following her to the kitchen.

"Don't you think that's just a tad bit of an oxymoron? How can I talk to someone who's pushed me away? How do I talk to someone that won't let me in? How can I open up to someone who's closed off to me? It's just like talking to a wall, Elliot. You can talk all you want, you can open up and expose your entire life, but no matter how much you reveal, it means nothing, because that wall isn't going to talk back. That wall isn't going to let you in. That wall won't ever share anything about what's it been through. And, Elliot, I won't let our relationship come to that. I won't let you just become a wall that I talk to every now and then. Whether we talk mutually, or we don't talk at all. This isn't a one-sided thing."

Elliot stands at her counter soaking in everything she has said, right by her sink, and right by her. He lingers for only a second before turning around and heading for the door. "I'm sorry I came down here, Liv. Or if I make you uncomfortable." His hand reaches the knob, before he remembers something, and turns back to her. She's still hovered over the sink, eyes closed to what their relationship has become. "Liv, before I go, Kathleen wanted me to invite you to her play. This theater place she goes to afterschool is putting it on."

He doesn't get a response, and she doesn't move. He thinks about leaving for only a minute, before actually moving to do it. But the butterscotch voice of his partner stops him. "What is it?" she asks simply, still not moving.

"What?" he asks quietly, turning back to her.

"What play is it?" she asks, turning herself to him, but she doesn't move from her place in the kitchen.

"'Chicago'" he answers simply.

"'Chicago'?" she repeats in disbelief, loosening the tension of the situation a bit. "Isn't that a little bit racy? Am I to believe that Detective Stabler would let his daughter wear one of those skimpy outfits on stage, where everyone can see?" she asks with a small, playful smile.

Elliot laughs just a little, and turns to face his partner. "Well, she asked Kathy, and Kathy agreed before my weekend with them came up. And you had to bring up the fact that everyone would see her, didn't you?"

Olivia laughs a little. "What part?"

"Matron Mama Morton," he responds with a sigh. Olivia lets out another laugh.

"Well, El, I do have to say that you're holding up pretty well, considering the outfits, the language, the raciness, the sexual innuendoes, the songs, and, well, the outfits."

"Gee, thanks," he says, as he rolls his eyes. He can feel the conversation getting lighter.

"Wait a minute, isn't this the daughter who just kicked butt in the soccer league, basketball league, and softball league. Aren't you the one who said she'd never get up and do something like this?"

"Well, yeah," he says with a small, mischievous smile. "It was a dare from a couple of her friends. But, she's really not that bad. She's taking some voice lessons, and she's actually pretty good. She wouldn't have cared, though. If it's one thing that my daughter won't back down from, it's a dare." They share a louder laugh.

"Just like her father," Olivia replies.

"There are some things you can't pay me to do."

"Like what?"

"Well, no dare would get me into one of those skimpy costumes." They share another laugh, and the air isn't as tense as it was before. Just like always, his kids have been his saving grace. If it wasn't for the topic of Kathleen, he'd be halfway home by now.

"Well, you tell me the times, and I'll try my best to be there. I have to see your face when she comes out for her first number."

"Ha-ha," he says dryly, and silence overcomes them. Elliot's not sure what to say. Should he just start talking about Kathy and the kids? She won't want to hear about that, he thinks. But, that's what got you in this position to begin with; not talking because you thought she wouldn't want to listen.

"What's on your mind, El?" she asks, walking to him. He doesn't respond for a moment, and she looks at him expectantly. When he doesn't say anything for awhile, Olivia places her hands on his shoulders, and looks him in the eye. "Let me in, Elliot. Please let me in," she pleads in a whisper.

Their foreheads lean against each other, and he breathes a heavy sigh. Olivia leads him to the couch, and he takes a deep breath before talking. And for the first time, he feels comfortable as he talks. For the first time, words come out on the first try, and it doesn't burn when he speaks.

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A/n – Hope you guys like this. I don't know how good it is, but, like many of my one-shots, I can't move past writer's block without jotting down other muses. And what's fun about writing unless you can share it with others? Hope liked, and reviews are always welcomed! Until next post, adios! –Jessica


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